


Of Mirrors and Moving On

by chaWOOPa



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Healing, Moving On, mentioned Taakitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaWOOPa/pseuds/chaWOOPa
Summary: Taako looks in the mirror and he sees…. He sees something. He sees long bleach-blonde hair with dark roots that are longer than he has ever let them get in his life. He sees bags under his eyes heavier and darker than the ones Kravitz had used to move in. He sees dark skin just a shade to sallow to be his, a nose that looks like it has been broken one too many times, the gap in his front teeth, the spots where his eyebrows aren’t perfectly in control, the side of his mouth that is just a touch higher than the other, the spaces where his freckles aren’t perfectly symmetrical, a million little flaws and imperfections that he has been trained to hate since he was young. Taako looks in the mirror and sees all these things, but there is something more than that there too.





	Of Mirrors and Moving On

Taako looks in the mirror and he sees…. He sees something. He sees long bleach-blonde hair with dark roots that are longer than he has ever let them get in his life. He sees bags under his eyes heavier and darker than the ones Kravitz had used to move in. He sees dark skin just a shade to sallow to be his, a nose that looks like it has been broken one too many times, the gap in his front teeth, the spots where his eyebrows aren’t perfectly in control, the side of his mouth that is just a touch higher than the other, the spaces where his freckles aren’t perfectly symmetrical, a million little flaws and imperfections that he has been trained to hate since he was young. Taako looks in the mirror and sees all these things, but there is something more than that there too.

 

Taako looks in the mirror and he sees himself.

 

He picks up the scissors he had gotten out not two minutes ago with the rest of the equipment and soaps and items he would need and he grabs at his hair and he cuts.

 

He always liked his long hair when he was younger and on the road, hopping from caravan to caravan. It was easier to blend in, to make people like him, to hide in plain sight. It was more versatile than the traditional short hair most boys his age wore. There was something thrilling about the adaptability, about the feeling of  having something so coveted in young women that _he_ wasn’t supposed to have. Not that his family had ever really wanted him to have _anything_ ; he was the runt, the unwanted one, born second and born weak, a toy for their perfect little baby girl who could do no wrong. His hair, though, with his hair like that he had felt powerful and beautiful and like maybe, just maybe, he would be worth something one day.

 

Taako finishes the job with a clean cut to his bangs and feels a smile pulling at the lopsided corner of his mouth as he admires his handiwork in the mirror and his now short hair curls with its new weightlessness as he watches.

 

He looks down and gathers up his soft, golden locks off the bathroom sink, feeling the bottom of the bouncing pixie cut brush his earlobes as it moved around, shocked by the sudden weightlessness of having ninety percent of it cut off.

 

In the hair in his hands and on his his bathroom floor and sink is the weight of a lifetime of living, of a hundred apocalypses, of a childhood on the road running from a home that never wanted him until he was gone. Each strand holds a different hurt, a different moment of sadness or pain or brokenness, each one treasured no matter what.

 

It is time to heal.

 

He casts prestidigitation to help get all the stray hairs before tying it all up with a little red ribbon. There are wig shops that would kill to get their hands on hair like his, and he is loath to let something so fine go to waste. He runs his fingers through the long, smooth, thick bundle one more time before laying it gently on the other side of the sink from his myriad of supplies.

 

Taako looks back up at the mirror and he sees himself again. The only difference from the first time is his hair, but it is amazing the difference it has made. Taako feels weightless.

 

He thinks he might go see Lucretia after this.

 

Taako looks in the mirror fifteen years after he and his family saved the world, and he finds that moving on isn’t as hard as it used to be.

**Author's Note:**

> so..... this is kinda a coping fic and kinda a character study and kinda just a plain old "I love Taako Taaco" fic and like, i just.... Taako who finally gets to a place in his life where he can be happy and he can move on. he isn't totally done yet, because wounds like his don't heal quickly, and sometimes they don't go away completely at all, they still leave marks and hurts, but he is getting there. he is getting there, and that is what is important. 
> 
> I will get there, and so will you. <3333


End file.
